


Neverending Circle

by coastcitytourism



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Anger, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, but there is no real comfort tbh, implied/mentioned sex, just pure angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 21:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20160451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coastcitytourism/pseuds/coastcitytourism
Summary: "They both know it's wrong for them to do this, to love and hate so passionately and violently, to break each other down into nothing and leave empty promises and what ifs that tear each other apart- but these days, there's no other choice."





	Neverending Circle

**Author's Note:**

> so I haven't written fic in abt 2 years and I'm just starting into F1 from other motorsports so please bear with me!!! also this is Sad there is no happy ending  
disclaimers- this is a work of fiction, blah blah blah, please do not copy this elsewhere without my permission, yall know the drill  
title is from Circles by Digitalism

Slowly but surely, the DNFs and disappointing results take their toll.  
Daniel tries his hardest to be better, to match the pace he had in a Red Bull car, to help Renault grow and learn. But every loss of a point or a place makes him feel physically ill, a hot orb of anger and jealousy that threatens to burn the facade of happiness he puts on for the world around him.  
And when he sees Gasly lean against Max and discuss race strategy, locks eyes with the young Dutch on the podium, the fire only grows in intensity until it's pure white and leaving him feeling like he might explode. Max, his former teammate, ex-best friend, star crossed lover- up there living the life he once dreamed of as a child.  
It all comes to a fever pitch on Sunday nights, when Daniel stumbles into Max's room, pushes the younger driver up against the wall, and pretends like he hasn't lost it all, everything he knows and loves including a man by the name of Max Verstappen.  
"I could outrun Gasly if I was still in that car," he growls into the pale skin on Max's collarbone, "I could even outrun you."  
Max smirks, arrogance bubbling to the surface as he gently attempts to wrestle his wrists from under where Dan has pinned them above his head. "Then why did you leave, huh? If you're so good why don't you fucking prove it? Pierre wouldn't have gotten your seat if he wasn't capable of replacing you," he says brusquely, releasing his hands from Dan's death grip and running them down the sides of the Aussie's toned body, where they come to rest on his waistband to fumble with the belt loops.  
It sends Daniel over the edge, all of Max's foolish youth and arrogance and talent. He's so young and yet so close to being a contender for a driver's championship title, and Daniel himself is only getting older, driving a midfield car in vain, salvaging what's left of the career he feels he's left in ruins after leaving Red Bull. It hurts, burns like fucking fire knowing that Max will always have the upper hand. Grabbing the svelte waist of the man in front of him, Dan forcefully pushes Max onto the bed, straddling him and speaking with pure venom-  
"Take. That. Back."  
Guilt flashes in Max's pale blue eyes only momentarily- then they are back to blazing in pure lust. He knows exactly how to push Ricciardo's buttons, to completely erase that puppy dog smile off the Australian's face and force him into a state that nobody else ever gets to see. It's wrong to do this, he thinks, and for a second Dan pauses and looks down in shame as if to agree, but neither of them lets the morals get to their head for more than a second- especially not as Dan is desperately clawing off Max's stupid Red Bull Racing team shirt and throwing it haphazardly across the room.  
"I hate you, Verstappen," he mutters, but Max notices the words don't meet Daniel's eyes in the brief introspective moment he's granted before Dan's tongue is in his mouth and his hands are pulling off Max's shorts and the room becomes a red-tinted blur of emotion.  
Max knows it's wrong to wind Dan up like this, knows that someday his little tricks will stop working and Daniel will stop needing him for the emotional release and coming around in the dead of night, and Max will be left feeling empty like the day Daniel announced his departure to Renault, but he doesn't have time to process it when all of his senses are filled to the brim with Daniel, and it almost feels like he's not missing a piece of himself again. In Max's head they're two puzzle pieces lost out of the box, finally finding each other and fitting together, but in reality they are broken glass futilely glued together with school glue and hidden in the back of the cupboard where nobody else can see.  
They fuck until the fountain of anger in Daniel's stomach dries up and the empty feeling deep within is replaced with a regret stronger than words. When they both lay all fucked out and sweaty on the tousled bedsheets, it feels like everything is back to normal, like they're still hopelessly in love and annoying the race engineers to no end with foolish PDA and not separated by points and time and garages and space.  
Dan absentmindedly cards his hand through Max's greasy hair, still sticky from the podium champagne and stuck to his sweaty forehead in places. Their breathing synchronizes, and Max's eyes start to flutter close, when something catches in Dan's chest and he knows he must break the utter silence-  
"You know I don't actually hate you, right Max?" he says, sighing into his next sentence, "I was frustrated, I was mad, nothing is working out. I miss you and I miss the team, more than I can find the words to say."  
His explanation seems to fall on silence for what seems like eternity, before Max picks his head up off the pillow, and sighs wistfully, like he always does when everything falls apart on Sunday evenings and he becomes Daniel's favorite toy, favorite savior.  
"Yeah," he breathes, aimlessly tracing patterns onto Dan's chest, "I know. I miss you too. More than you can imagine." Inhaling sharply, Max turns his face away from the expanse of tan skin that he can no longer bear to look at without feeling a sorrow that leaves him feel nauseous and lifts his eyes to stare at a pockmark in the popcorn ceiling.  
"Danny...you really deserve better. I know you're better than Pierre, I know you're capabl-"  
"Max. Shut up. Please. You're gonna be a world champion someday, stop pretending like- like I'm doing community service by taking advantage of you like this. I can't change what's happened, I can't go back, we can't-" Daniel's breath hitches in his throat. A sick sense of pride in his ability to keep someone so headstrong as Max wrapped around his finger tickles his heart, but he simply shakes his head and rolls over so that his back faces Max. "Let's just go to sleep. We can talk about this some other time. It's been a long weekend for us both."  
They both know there will be no other time, that Daniel will sneak away in the morning before Max wakes and leave just like the last time and all the times before that, avoiding Max and any mention of his name until the next time it all becomes too overwhelming and Dan sneaks back into Max's room for another round. They both know it's wrong for them to do this, to love and hate so passionately and violently, to break each other down into nothing and leave empty promises and what ifs that tear each other apart- but these days, there's no other choice.

**Author's Note:**

> i feel bad for gasly always getting thrown under the bus, anyways,  
maybe ill be back with something happier, but thanks for reading this far!


End file.
